


Soothing Touch

by smokescreen117



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Love, Massage, Romance, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 00:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17929346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokescreen117/pseuds/smokescreen117
Summary: After being refused to drink from the Well of Sorrows, Morrigan's mood becomes increasingly bitter. Thankfully her lover knows just the way to help her relax.





	Soothing Touch

  
There were days at Skyhold that were both unobtrusive and dreary. The shadow of a world at war lingered ceaselessly over the ancient castle, keeping the Inquisition on edge despite the presence of its Herald and the band of warriors that defended them.  
  
And yet, there were also days that could be construed as festive and positively invigorating. From the rumbustious games of Wicked Grace held at the tavern, to the celebratory feasts held in the Great Hall after a hard fought victory against Corypheus; things were looking rather inspiring.  
  
For Leliana, the days were she had to contend with the raving of a dreadfully peeved Witch of the Wilds were about as delicate as treating a burning wound.

  
“And then he claimed he would be better suited for the task than I! Yes of course, what was I thinking? Let us throw years of study and experience out of consideration in favor of distrustful ignorance!” Said Witch of the Wilds ranted with a darkened scowl across her fair Chasind features.  
  
“Hmm…” Leliana hummed as she absently massaged her lover’s shoulders with attentive care. They both laid atop of an Orlesian bed inside her quarters; the Spymaster hoping to at least reduce the stressful weight the Witch carried.

“Tis the fault of that Solas.” Morrigan huffed, barely registering the soothing touch as her frustration over the last mission, however successful, continued to vex her. “The Inquisitor would have agreed to reason were it not for that irritable elf who claims to know better than I.”  
  
The redhead could not help but sigh at that. The Witch having noticed, narrowed her amber eyes with displeasure at her from over her shoulder.  
  
“Am I boring you, Spymaster?”  
  
“The purpose of a rub-down is to release your stress, Morri.” Leliana shrugged, exasperation in her words as she continued to stroke Morrigan’s creamy exposed shoulders.  
  
“I am airing my grievances, am I not?” Morrigan countered, her tone as lax as if she were picking dirt from beneath her fingernails.  
  
“But you are not relaxing! Your shoulders remain as stiff as the staff you carry. One would think they were one and the same.” Leliana frowned, her blue eyes softly trailing the raven-head’s smooth back. “Must you allow your discontent to deny you even this liberating spell?”  
  
“Let us see if you could simply "relax” after losing a trove of ancient knowledge to the whims of self-righteous idiots.“ The Witch grumbled back.

The Spymaster could not help but chuckle at that, finding her beloved Witch’s mood to be as endearing as a grouchy child being refused a special treat.

  
"Perhaps ancient knowledge is not what I treasure, my love.” A thought occurred to Leliana as she considered the consequences of Morrigan drinking from the Well of Sorrows. “Besides, the price was an arrow you avoided, yes? Had you drunk from the Well, you would have been forever tethered to serve Mythal…your–”  
  
“Mother, yes, I know. Remarkably the only price I could not have fathomed paying nor accepted had I known of it beforehand.” Morrigan begrudgingly conceded her point. Knowledge was power, but eternal servitude to Flemeth would have been nothing short of a living nightmare for the daughter who had spent the past decade eluding her.

  
“So let us not quibble over the what-ifs, and appreciate what is.” The redhead coaxed with an endearing smile as she resumed her relaxation technique.

  
“Mmm.” Despite herself, Morrigan couldn’t help but shutter her eyes with enjoyment as she felt a rather sensitive knot on her shoulder begin to loosen under Leliana’s delicate precision. It carried with it fonder memories of their earlier years when they were rivals among a party of misfits out to save Fereldan.

They were different people then. And yet despite the passing of years, much between them had remained the same; or in some cases had changed for the better.  
  
“You know, I know just the thing to help you truly relax.” Leliana slowly withdrew her hands from Morrigan’s back and turned to retrieve something from off the side of the bed. Morrigan could only frown at the possibility given their experience.

  
“If it is a song, my Raven, you will find my reception to be less than generous at this time. If I see an instrument, it will catch fire.”  
  
“I figured as much.” The redhead chuckled while she discreetly began to loosen the straps to her chainmail tunic. “No, I think to help your mind relax, your body must agree with it. So…lay down. Take off your clothes.”  
  
“Your pardon?”  
  
“You heard me. Off.” Leliana gently nudged her face-down against the mattress. The Witch blinked with mild confusion until her eyes widened at the scorching sight of naked Orlesian skin, shimmering in the daylight beaming through the windows. From off the side of the bed, Leliana had retrieved a flask of what she knew to be Tevinter imported oil.  
  
“Well…” Morrigan turned her gaze away, allowing her head to rest against the soft mattress with a smirk playing across her plum lips. “This should be most interesting.” Leisurely, she began to undo the laces to her top, skirt and trousers, then gracefully slid them off.

The calming scent of sandalwood and spice filled the room as Leliana lathered her fingers in the warm lubricate. She watched as flawless porcelain flesh greeted her cerulean eyes. Warmth coiled in the redhead’s stomach at the glorious sight of her lover fully bare to her tender mercies.  
  
In the decade since they had first met, the Witch of the Wilds was the epitome of beauty and temptation to the former Bard and Lay Sister of the Chantry who had for years denied herself the comfort of a lover.  
  
“Are you going to stare like a gawking virgin, Leliana, or grace me with your touch?” Morrigan said dryly, smirk still on her lips.  
  
“Ooh look, now she’s eager.” Leliana returned, a small flush warming her cheeks. Her oiled hands resumed their work, gently attending Morrigan’s shoulders first, threading the tight muscles there with slow strokes of her thumbs. She had positioned herself to sit on the back of Morrigan’s thighs, the Witch’s shapely ass pushed flush against her naked pelvis like a lovely pillow.  
  
A pleasured sigh wafted from Morrigan’s lips. An embolden Leliana continued her gradual pace, threading and kneading the tight knots until they melted like butter in her hands. The Spymaster shivered with warmth as she listened to Morrigan’s sighs transition into soft moans.

“How does that feel?” She purred, her Orlesian accent thick now as her oily fingers trailed a moist path down Morrigan’s soft back.  
  
“…Quite remarkable.” The witch exhaled heatedly, feeling her arousal spiking as Leliana’s skilled hands caressed and rubbed her lower back; her digits drawing lazy eights just above her rear-cheeks, treading ever so closer to her arse before they teasingly withdrew.  
  
Morrigan bit her bottom her lip to contain her mewling frustration. This massage was meant to relieve her stress, not increase it! Leliana’s calluses, formed from over a decade of wielding a bow-string, were remarkably smooth and provided the right amount of pressure to ease out the knots.  
  
As if sensing her lover’s need, Leliana deftly traced the curves of Morrigan’s hips before finally she began rubbing her arse-cheeks.  
  
The Witch hummed with delight. In the few lovers she’d taken in her life, Morrigan had never felt so adored–so worshipped–than when she lay with Leliana; a girl she once saw as little more than an annoying rival yet oddly enough, had come to treasure and love dearly. Fate it seemed held a unique sense of humor.  
  
“I can feel your stare.” Morrigan whispered as the silence stretched with the tension of a growing hot flame. She inhaled and slightly flinched as the Spymaster’s fingers began to rub her inner-thighs. Subtlety it seemed was quickly being discarded.

“Where else would I look, mon amour?” Leliana returned feverishly, feeling the heat radiating off of Morrigan as her hands trailed closer to her core.  
  
“Nowhere else, I would hope.”  
  
“My gaze and heart were stolen long ago, by a brazen Apostate Witch who placed me under her spell.” Leliana smiled warmly at that while Morrigan snorted.  
  
“Hmm. A formidable spell it must have been to bewitch one so pious and…” She could feel Leliana’s fingers brush her slick folds; tentative at first, then much more palpable. Morrigan’s breathing deepened as her thoughts nearly escaped her.  
  
“And?” Leliana coaxed, the teasing in her voice gone and replaced with hunger as she sensed Morrigan’s arousal climb and felt her juices coat her fingers. Maker, she was so wet, so beautiful.  
  
“Experienced.” Morrigan managed to whisper with a barely even tone. The redhead was both impressed and amused by the rare compliment and it showed her just how on edge the normally reserved Witch and Arcane Advisor was.

“Such a thing was no small task.” The redhead replied to the her claim. “I suppose it helped she had such a lofty spirit, an unyielding stubbornness, breathtaking beauty…”  
  
“And?” Morrigan trembled with hot anticipation as she felt Leliana’s warm breath against her ear. The redhead had leaned towards and the huskiness of her voice could scorch the Frostback Mountains.  
  
“A shapely ass.” An punctuating slap across her arse-cheeks shattered the dam and Morrigan felt all her mental restraint give away as she succumbed to the desires of her body.  
  
“I need you now, Leliana.” She breathed, her amber eyes gazing heatedly into her lover’s cool blues.  
  
“And I you.” With that, their lips met in a passionate interlock just as Leliana slowly entered her beloved with two moist fingers. Her pace was gentle and languid at first, easing the scorching inferno they felt in their veins while their lips entered a familiar dance.  
  
Morrigan moaned as Leliana gently nipped at her lips, the mild sting jolting the Witch into taking a firmer approach. Her free hand pulled Leliana’s braid until she was cupping the back of her head, deepening the kiss with rougher exhales.  
  
The Spymaster’s breath tasted of mint with a touch of wine. Morrigan eagerly drank in her exhalations and slid her tongue in to dance with her lover’s.

Leliana’s fingers alternated between sliding between her Morrigan’s warm folds and teasing her sensitive nub with slow strokes. The kiss broke as Morrigan fell to the covers with a blissful moan. She was panting now; feeling Leliana slowly withdraw her fingers, only to reinsert them; curling upwards.  
  
The Witch unconsciously fisted the covers in response. Her oiled back glistened, appearing as delectable as a dessert in the daylight. Leliana’s tongue felt noticeably dry, desperately in need of satisfying her thirst.  
  
Her attentive thoughts however lingered and reminded her that Morrigan’s pleasure and relaxation were the priority here, not her own. The heat encompassing the room was smoldering, the coolness of Leliana’s flesh was a stark contrast to Morrigan’s flushed skin.  
  
“Lâche, ma chérie.” Leliana whispered against Morrigan’s ear, leaning her forehead against her own. Her pace was as fervent and rapid as riding a mount across a field. The accompanying rush was gratifying as she felt her lover’s muscles tensing with the feeling of an incoming climatic release.

“Oh!” Morrigan could no longer contain herself. Her eyes shut as a powerful orgasm shook her from head to toe. Stars danced behind her eyelids, her limbs trembled with blissful convulsions as her walls tightened around her lover’s fingers. Her warm juices spilled onto the mattress, coating Leliana’s fingers with their heady moisture.  
  
Leliana carried Morrigan further with her touch, increasing the length and intensity of her climax that saw all tension and stress in her body melt away and become forgotten. The Spymaster smiled warmly as she slowly withdrew her fingers, her torso pressed against Morrigan’s back. She reached over and brushed loose strands of sweaty hair from her lover’s face.  
  
“That was…quite a liberating spell, Leliana.” Morrigan breathed with an airy smile.  
  
“As I hoped it would be,” Leliana replied, more than satisfied with the result of her technique. She made no move to rise off of her lover’s back, her hands lazily resting on Morrigan’s pale hips. “The times ahead us will no doubt be vexing and trying, but it doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate moments like this when there is time to enjoy them as such.”  
  
Morrigan snorted as if amused by the sentiment and the memory tethered to it. “A familiar adage once spoken in the warmth of a tent; in a camp of wayward ignorants.”

“Ah so you do remember.” Leliana grinned at the fact, her hands unconsciously resuming their exploration of Morrigan’s back. The Witch hummed approvingly, savoring the feeling. “They were fond times, Morri. World-on-the-brink of being torn asunder, you must to stop consider the brighter aspects of it.”  
  
“Indeed. Tis fortunate we we do not have an Alistair here.” Morrigan deadpanned with a sigh. “As skilled as you are, my dear, I do not think even your soothing touch could quell my ire.”  
  
A chuckle escaped the redhead’s lips as she stopped to consider. Her wanton eyes had not lost their passion as they continued to roam over Morrigan’s exquisite form. “Oh I have my ways.” She responded coolly. “And I have before, lest you forget.” Discreetly, Leliana reached over the side of the bed to retrieve another tool she had quietly kept hidden for moments such as this.  
  
“Hmm?” Morrigan turned to glance over her shoulder in question. “Oh…” A decade in the Orlesian court had given her enough experience to mask her incredulous expressions, but Morrigan could not restrain the flush that had no doubt reached her cheeks as she eyed the unconventional strap that hung in Leliana’s lazy grip.

“Tell me, mon amour, do you still feel vexed?” Leliana raised her eyebrows cutely, a knowing smirk in place as she watched Morrigan leer at her with a come-hither expression.  
  
“Quite, my Raven.”  
  
———-

 


End file.
